


Sometime, Somewhere, Soon

by Snow_white79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley is suspicious, Gen, Lucifer wants to rule everything, Sam's powers are coming back, Season/Series 12, Talking about Sam's powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_white79/pseuds/Snow_white79
Summary: Lucifer is still Crowley's prisoner, but he can communicate with Sam (and wants Sam to help him).Crowley is suspicious. He can tell that something is going to happen. But what?Dagon is ready to help Lucifer, and Sam.Dean just wants to know what's going on.Oh, and the BMOL can't be trusted.





	

**Something’s Brewing**

Stepping quietly over the broken glass, Dean cautiously peers around the corner of the wall, his silver dagger in his hand.

Seeing that no one is there, Dean walks deeper into the empty room, looking around at the mess. The sudden vibrations in his pocket makes him pause briefly. Pulling out his phone, he is annoyed to see that instead of it being Sam, it’s Crowley. “What?” he whispers harshly. “I’m kinda busy here.”

“Where’s Moose?” Crowley asks.

“Researching. Why don’t you call him? I’m freakin’ waist deep in a Vetala nest.” Dean looks out the dingy window at the desecrated cemetery.

“I would if he answered his phone, Squirrel. Where exactly are you?” The King of Hell asks, the annoyance evident in his tone.

“The abandoned church in Mechanicsburg, on Horton Rd---,” Dean answers. He is about to add the city when Crowley appears in front of him. “Dude!” The older Winchester says with frustration. “I’m in the middle of a hunt, man.”

Crowley nods, snapping his finger and immediately obliterating the Vetala sneaking behind Dean. Another one appears, and Crowley rolls his eyes in boredom as he watches Dean stab it in the heart.

“Are you finished?” he asks Dean, “This is rather important.”

“Just one more.” Dean answers, “I think.” He hasn’t heard from Sam yet, so he can only assume the nest contained three.

With a long and exhausted sigh, Crowley nods his head in resignation. “Very well. I talk, you listen, and when we see the blasted thing, you stab away at it.”

Dean doesn’t bother responding, and instead begins to walk into the other room in search for the third Vetala.

“I used to know a Vetala. She was a loyal thing…sweet on the eyes too,” Crowley comments, glancing over at the blood stains around the windowsill. “Too bad she was killed about 30 some years ago. She had quite the potential to be something wonderful.”

“Great story, Crowley. What do you want?” Dean asks as he turns the corner into another room. He didn’t have time for this, especially when he needs to stay focused on destroying the third Vetala.

“I’ve been hearing some underlings…and I have some concerns. Mainly in regards to your Moose of a brother. Is he alone right now?” Crowley asks.

“Is there a problem?” Dean asks instead, ready to defend his brother against the King of Hell.

“Possibly.” Crowley answers honestly, already used to the gruffness of Dean Winchester when it came to the younger Winchester’s reputation and/or well-being. “Given that he didn’t answer his phone, I have no idea. But I doubt he would listen to me anyways. I can count the number of times your brother actually listened to me on one hand. Much better to go through you with this one.” He waits for Dean to respond, knowing it won’t take long.

Dean stops walking and turns to face the king of Hell. “Alright, you have my attention.”

Crowley glances behind Dean’s back. Without turning around, the older Winchester throws the dagger behind himself, hearing the scream of the Vetala when it slams through her chest. Turning around, Dean takes two steps forward and twists the dagger, ensuring her demise.

“Done?” Crowley asks.

Dean shrugs, watching the Vetala wither on the ground at his feet. “Think so. Sam and I only counted three. I wanna look around a bit to make sure.”

“Right, of course. It’s always better to be thorough.” Crowley steps over some broken glass and continues to follow the hunter through the abandoned church. “Here’s the thing, Squirrel. When the cage was damaged by Amara, there wasn’t really any way to effectively fix it. Obviously we needed to hold Lucifer, but the cage wasn’t strong enough anymore.”

Dean stops walking. He can already tell he won’t like where this is going. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing terrible, Dean,” Crowley replies with a shrug, “I just created a new prison for him: not only is it strong enough to contain an archangel, but I can communicate with him whenever I want.” He ends his sentence with a small and proud smile.

“Yeah, that’s not going to backfire at all,” Dean says with a snort as he continues walking through the broken pews. He pulls back the curtain and looks inside the torn up confessional room.

Ignoring that comment, Crowley continues, “My concerns are with the princes of Hell.”

“They have no interest in ruling Hell, Crowley. You know that. What does this have to do with Sam?” Dean asks, walking towards the broken, marble altar. He pauses when he thinks he sees a shadow moving across the wall.

“Just something Lucifer said to me earlier…it made me think about Sam and Azazel.”

“There is no Sam and Azazel. Azazel is dead. I killed him myself.” He smiles at the memory. He walks up to the broken altar.

Crowley nods his head. “Yes, however there is a bit more to it than that, Dean. Azazel was a prince of Hell, and Sam was his child.”

Dean quickly turns to face the king of Hell, “Sam was not, and NEVER was his kid, Crowley! Why the hell would you even say that?” He’s tempted to stab Crowley with the dagger in his hand but decides it wouldn’t be worth it if another Vetala is nearby.

“Because regardless of being raised by John and Mary Winchester, Azazel fed his blood to Sam as an infant, forever linking them together!” Crowley roars back. “And no amount of detox or angel grace can remove the blood of a prince of Hell! It’s fabricated into his DNA, Dean. It’s who he is and who he will always will be.”

“What are you trying to say, Crowley?” Dean demands, the threat of his question hanging in the air as he takes a step forward towards the shorter man.

“Samuel has the blood of Azazel inside of him. He is linked to the other princes of Hell through that blood.” Crowley explains. “That’s one of the reasons why your newfound friends that Mummy brought home have been so interested in Moose. Is he human, is he not human? Who knows! Doesn’t matter, really. What does matter, is that with that connection, your brother’s safety is compromised.”

“You think Dagon and Asmodeus are after him? For what? Sam doesn’t want anything to do with them. Hell, he killed Ramiel himself.” Dean pauses, questioning, “Is that it? They want revenge for Ramiel?”

Crowley shakes his head, “No. I don’t believe so. I think it has more to do with what Lucifer is planning to do.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure.” He admits.

“Damnit, Crowley! What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Just keep an eye on your brother, Squirrel,” Crowley croons. “Like I said, Moose has a blood link with them, and who knows what they are planning. I just know that something is up, and they need your brother to do it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Lucifer keeps hinting to it. I don’t know if he’s using it as a distraction or not. I have no idea, and I hate having no idea. So just to be safe: keep an eye on your brother. He listens to you. You’re the only one he really listens to besides himself. So do us all a favor and keep him by your side for the time being. At least until I can figure out what Lucifer is planning to do.”

“You should’ve told us about the cage, Crowley.”

“Oh please, like you could do anything about it. I’m the King of Hell, Dean. If anyone can hold Lucifer, it’s me.”

Pulling out his phone, Dean quickly dials Sam’s number.

 

************************************************************************

 

Sam looks around, confused. The last thing he remembered was sitting in front of his lap top in the bunker’s library. He isn’t sure how he is now in what looks like a warehouse. He wonders if he is asleep or if this is another vision. The room is dark, and Sam squints to see a shadowy figure sitting in a chair in front of him. Taking a step forward, he frowns, unsure if he is seeing clearly. “Lucifer?”

“Hey, buddy,” Lucifer, wearing the body of Nick, greets with a tired and amused smile. “Long time, huh?”

Sam notes the collar around the devil’s neck and the chains attached. “What happened? Where are we?” This isn’t like any of his other visions. He doesn’t usually have the chance to talk to anyone. Sam concludes that this must be a dream. But he doesn’t remember ever falling asleep.

“It took you long enough,” Lucifer comments. “You were always a later bloomer, but this is ridiculous, Sam.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it when he realizes he has nothing to say. Instead, he frowns at the devil with confusion. He assumes Lucifer is talking about communicating with him in this manner, but he knows better than to ask the devil for details. Sometimes it was better to stay in the dark.

Lucifer lets out a long and drawn out sigh, as if Sam’s mere existence is exhausting for him. Sam is pretty sure that it is. “Sam, Sam, Sam…” he shakes his head, “You never cease to disappoint me.”

Looking around, Sam begins to walk away from Lucifer’s seated form, exploring the metal walls around him. “Where are we?” he asks again.

“I am trapped in a ridiculous prison by your pal, Crowley.” Lucifer explains, drumming his fingertips against the metal arm of the chair. “And this nifty neck piece prevents me from using any real form of power to escape this atrocity.”

“And I’m…dreaming?” Sam asks. He taps his knuckles against the metal wall. He wants to make sure this isn’t a new hallucination. They happened less often, and he could usually tell the difference by now, but sometimes he still needed reassurance.

“Not really. More like daydreaming. It would have taken forever if I waited for you to actually fall asleep. Your sleep schedule is horrendous. Have you ever considered drugs for that? It can’t be healthy.” Lucifer comments.

Ignoring that, Sam turns back to the devil and asks his next question, “Why am I here?” Obviously Lucifer wouldn’t spend all this time waiting on Sam’s ability to form a communicative link with him to just chat.

Lucifer smiles, and Sam tenses. He hates when Lucifer smiles. “You’ve been feeling it, haven’t you? That shift inside of you? The vibrations just sitting under your fingers and behind your eyes…?”

Sam doesn’t trust himself to speak. He swallows hard and turns back around, continuing to look at the walls, reaching out to touch the cool slabs of metal. He knows exactly what Lucifer is talking about. It’s been inside of him since he got his soul back, but he’s ignored it for so long that it seemed to almost disappear. But now, recently, he’s been feeling it return…this almost burning feeling inside of him that is swirling within him, and he’s been having a harder time ignoring it.

“I admit, I knew it would take time for your powers to resurface. I mean, you were always a bit on the slow side for growth. Add to that, how you always lean towards the drama, I shouldn’t be too surprised for how long it’s taken.” Lucifer goads, pausing to see if Sam will turn back to look at him.

Sam refuses to take the bait and instead rolls his eyes and continues to walk around the room, wondering if he can find an opening.

Lucifer continues, “You were doing so great before. You were learning how to use your powers and making a real name for yourself. But then it all went downhill for you.” He pauses. Waiting to see if Sam will interrupt. When he doesn’t, Lucifer continues. “After we took that tumble in the cage you just became a bit of an empty shell. You can’t disagree, Sam. You know I’m right.” He pauses again, waiting.

When Sam stays silent, Lucifer continues, “I mean, first you get pulled out of the cage without your soul. Then, once you get your soul back, you, _obviously,_ go crazy because you’re weak and fragile and all things disgustingly human,” Lucifer shakes his arms out as if the disgust has turned to life and crawled onto his skin. “And then, _even when_ Castiel pulls the craziness out of you, _and ends up dying with your brother,_ you turn around and pretend to _be normal_ , and what a freakin’ waste that was! Wasn’t it, Sammy?” He chuckles under his breath, “And then _Finally,_ Dean pulls you back in, reminds you of what your job actually is, but then what happens? You go for broke and try to close the gates of Hell…and FAIL. You let yourself get possessed, _and then_ when you finally get yourself straightened out, what do you do? What happens next, Sammy? Instead of reaching your true potential you continue whining and crying trying to save your big brother from the Mark of Cain.” He chuckles, and the sound isn’t of amusement. “Great plan by the way with that one, huh, Sam? Bring out the Darkness!” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter anymore, though, right, Sam? Because she brought back Mommy Dearest for you guys!”

Sam bites his tongue. Not wanting to speak. Things were a bit more complicated than that. He stands still, keeping his back to Lucifer.

“Not that you knew about Mary being resurrected  at the time…you were too busy being tortured and drugged by some crazy bitches from…what were they called? Oh right, the Letters…your buddies. Your mom’s buddies…and what happened next? You remember, Sammy?”

“What do you want, Lucifer?” Sam asks, already tired of this conversation. “I’m sure you dragged me here for a reason, so spill it.” He finally turns to face the devil, but doesn’t move any closer.

“Awww, am I keeping you from something?” Lucifer asks with slight amusement.

Sam sighs loudly. He wonders if he can wake himself up by pinching his arm. Sam immediately attempts it, frowning when he is still in the warehouse.

“You were made for me, Samuel. Made perfect just for me… and Azazel gifted you with something so special…” Lucifer continues with a wave of his hand.

“Special?” Sam scoffs, and he ignores the irritated glare from Lucifer for being interrupted. “Yeah, seeing visions that made my head feel like it was being split open was awesome.”

Lucifer shakes his head, “You fought it, that’s why it hurt. You were raised to believe that anything supernatural was evil. If you were raised by anyone other than a hunter, you would’ve accepted your gifts, and followed the prophesized path.”

“I doubt it.” Sam is sure he would run the other direction screaming, and possibly be living somewhere in a mental institution.

Lucifer ignores him and continues to speak. “Azazel would have given you more of his blood to ensure that you continued to grow strong---“

“And addicted, no thanks.”

Now it’s Lucifer’s turn to scoff, “Don’t compare Azazel’s blood with that of a two-bit demon whore or some other low ranking _demon._ Azazel was a _Prince of Hell,_ made by yours truly. My favored and loyal prince. His blood was pure and full of power. Power that didn’t burn out each time you were to use it. _the power from his blood_ \--- from any Prince of Hell --- absorbs and expands inside of you, building up even more power. There wouldn’t be those annoying withdrawal symptoms. You wouldn’t have to keep drinking more and more blood to retain your powers. Blood from a Prince of Hell would ensure that each time you used your powers, they would grow on their own. What kind of Men of Letters are you? Do your research, Sam.”

Sam leans against the wall, studying Lucifer who just sits there with an amused smile on his face. Sam can tell that the devil isn’t actually annoyed with him. After several seconds, the younger Winchester decides it’s safe to ask again, “Again, what am I doing here and what do you want?” It made no sense to live in the past. Sam was sure he would never follow Azazel regardless of what Lucifer may believe.

Lucifer leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Well your company for one thing. You’re like one of those dumb animals that humans like to take videos of and share on the internet. You’re highly amusing, Sam.”

“Eat me.”

“Later, maybe.” Lucifer replies with a wink, “Here’s the thing. I’m going to be a daddy soon, and well, there’s a war brewing because it.”

“I noticed,” Sam answers, straightening up, “And since when did you decide it was a good idea to create a Nephilim?”

“What? An archangel can’t decide to create life? Since when?”

“You hate humans.” Sam points out.

“Most humans. Not all. I don’t hate _you_ I’m not very _fond_ of you, but I don’t hate you.”

“Lucifer, can you get to the point of all this? I’m supposed to be researching a gravesite for Dean right now, not keeping you company.” Sam walks away from the wall and starts to pace. He needs to figure out how to wake up.

“Now don’t be rude, Samuel. I’m helping you out here.” Lucifer scolds.

“How?” Sam stops pacing and turns to face his nemesis.

“Like I said, there’s a war coming. Several actually, but the main one right now has to do with your new British pals.”

“The British Men of Letters?”

“Those guys.” Lucifer affirms. “They’re bad news, Sam. I know you know this. I know you’re trying to prove yourself wrong because you have this deep desire to make your mother happy. But here’s the funny part…the whole reason your mother joined that group of prudes was to save your hide.”

“What?” Sam feels like he’s just been punched.

“Aketch…password 2589dark12”

“Arthur Ketch’s account?” Sam asks. He focuses on the password, visualizing each number and letter for a moment to retain it in his memory.

Lucifer nods, “He has access to everything. Use it and see what he has on you, your brother, and even your angel buddy, Castiel. It’s highly educational. Especially the part where it states that your execution has been postponed until further notice. That’s just a fancy way of saying that they’re going to kill you when you’re no longer worthwhile to them.”

Sam wants to accuse him of lying, but he can’t. He always had a nagging suspicion about them, but instead of pursuing it, Sam gave the MOL the benefit of the doubt because he trusted Mary to be on his and his brother’s side. Dean always told him he was too naive. It wouldn’t be the first time his brother was right. Instead of denying Lucifer’s claim, he sears the username and password repeatedly into his mind to replay when he wakes up.

“They kill anyone that isn’t a normal, boring human, Sam. Look it up. It’s all black and white to them. You’re on that list, buddy. It doesn’t matter that you’re a hunter. If anything that makes them trust you even less.” Lucifer explains.

“Why?” Sam asks. He isn’t going to pretend to deny the accusation at this point. He knows he isn’t normal by any account.

“Because you’ve been there, Sam.” Lucifer explains, “You’ve lived this life long enough to realize that there is more to the coin than just two sides…there’s ripples and grooves and indentations, and sometimes the good outweighs the bad, and when that happens: you let them go. Not all monsters are monsters.”

Sam finds himself nodding and thinking back to all the supernatural creatures he has protected thus far. They didn’t mean any harm. They kept out of trouble. They deserved saving. He walks closer to Lucifer, climbing up the step by his chair. Sam remains cautious as he listens to what the devil has to say.

“But the British Men of Letters disagree, Sam. You know that. They kill. They torture. They don’t care about the backstory. If it’s not 100% human, then it deserves to be killed.” Lucifer states matter-of-factly.

Sam leans against the table by Lucifer’s chair. He has nothing to say. He knows Lucifer is right, and there really isn’t anything he can do about it.

“And those Men of Letters want to kill my baby, Sam. My innocent little baby who hasn’t even been born yet. And for what? Because he’s a little different? Because he won’t be 100% human? He doesn’t even get a chance to prove to anyone what he can do?” Lucifer shakes his head. “That’s not right.”

“So you’re asking me to protect your kid?” Sam isn’t sure whether to laugh or try pinching himself again to wake up.

“I’m asking you to protect all the kids, Sam. All the supernatural creatures that mean no harm. The ones who are just living their lives trying to survive like the rest of you monkeys.”

“You’re serious.” He asks in disbelief. Since when did Lucifer care about any of this?

“Like a house fire.” Lucifer confirms with a smirk.

Sam scowls, turning away. Oh how he hated Lucifer.

“You still have that power, Sam.” Lucifer reaches over and gently runs his fingers against the top of Sam’s hand, ignoring how the younger Winchester flinches slightly. “It’s inside of you. You were always born with the gift of empathy, and maybe you might have had a few dream visions if Azazel never came to you as an infant. But he did. And his blood opened your mind up and brought you more power. Power that is still lingering deep inside of you, just waiting to blossom up once again.”

“I don’t want it.” Sam announces angrily. He pulls his hand away, but doesn’t fight back when Lucifer reaches for it again. Sometimes it was better to just let things like that go. He learned how important it was to choose what battle was worth it during his time in the cage.

“You don’t have a choice, Sam. It’s in you. It’s who you are, and it’s never going to just go away, no matter how hard you try to make it disappear.” Lucifer comments softly, tracing his fingertips against the inside of Sam’s wrist.

Sam looks away. He remembers returning to the bunker after talking to Magda. He felt that power hidden inside of him. He could picture it covered in cobwebs. She inspired him to think about that power once again. So much so that he actually decided to try to move his phone from one end of the night table to the other using only his mind. He remembers seeing his phone shake a little from the force of his thoughts, and then a terrible pain hit him so hard that he woke up on his bedroom floor the next morning with dried blood under his nose. He never tried again.

“You just need a little push.” Lucifer answers, and Sam realizes that the devil can read his thoughts.

“No.”

“Then innocent people and creatures will die.” Lucifer answers calmly.  “They need a leader, Sam.”

“And you think that’s me?” Sam asks incredulously. Has the devil not been paying attention to the past decade of his life?

“I know it’s you.” Lucifer confirms. “Azazel wanted you to lead an army. He had the right idea.”

“No.” Sam repeats.

Lucifer’s smile is almost patronizing, and it reminds Sam of how adults used to speak to him when he was young and they thought he didn’t know what went on in the dark and that monsters weren’t real. “You can lead them, Sam. Save them from the Men of Letters. Save them from the righteous, winged bastards who think they are better than everyone else. Save them from those who only want to obliterate them for standing in their path. Give them a voice, Samuel.” He persuades.

Sam closes his eyes. He hated this. He hated knowing how much he wanted this. He can feel Lucifer’s fingers wrapping themselves around his wrist, pulling him towards the chair.

“I can’t,” Sam whispers. “What you’re asking me to do, Lucifer…I can’t.” He lets himself get pulled onto Lucifer’s lap, his legs straddled on either side of the devil. Opening his eyes, he faces the devil head on. “I can’t.” And Sam feels broken. He feels like a failure, again.

“You can,” Lucifer corrects him. “But first you need to do a few things.”

“No.” Sam says again.

“You’re going to wake up and hack into Ketch’s account and see that I’m right.” Lucifer begins.

Sam nods his head. He was going to do that anyways. No reason to deny it.

“And you’re going to figure out how to get me out of this prison.” Lucifer continues.

“Why would I do that?” Sam honestly asks. That sounds like a terrible thing to do.

“Because I need to protect my child.”

“You have no patience for children.” Sam points out. He is pretty sure that any child of Lucifer’s will require an abundance of patience.

“And I need to conspire.” Lucifer adds with a small smile.

“That sounds more like you.” Sam comments.

Lucifer’s smile widens as he adds, “I need to gather people on my side…on our side, Sam. We’re going to create an army…we’re going to show everyone that there can be a balance.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

“Since I’m going to be the one ruling them.” The devil replies.

“I don’t see that turning out well,” Sam answers. He can’t deny that Lucifer would most definitely want to rule Hell, Earth, and Heaven at once. The devil was greedy and ambitious enough to aim for something that ostentatious.

“But you’ll do it anyways because you know I’m right.” Lucifer replies with an easy grin. He tilts his head to one side, “Look at it.” He means the collar.

Sam frowns, leaning in closer. “It has…it looks like two sets of runes on top of each other. I think…I think one is Enochian…but I can’t figure out the other one….” He isn’t sure why he is telling the devil any of this. He figures it’s his own natural curiosity that is bringing out his voice.

“This vessel is my prison, and this collar is the key, Sam.” Lucifer confides. He keeps his hands steady on Sam’s waist, waiting while his true vessel studies the collar.

“I can’t figure out the other runes. It’s weird to see them on top of each other. I can’t tell what’s what.” He closes his eyes, feeling dizzy.

“Show me,” Lucifer demands. His voice soft. He removes one hand from Sam’s waist and uses it to touch the younger Winchester’s forehead. Together, Lucifer can now see what his true vessel can see in front of him. “The bottom layer is Enochian. The top layer is Dimoori Sheol,” Lucifer acknowledges.

“The language of the damned?” Sam translates easily. He blinks quickly when he feels Lucifer’s hand leave his head. “I don’t know how to read that.”

Lucifer nods his head, “I know. When you’re done looking through Arthur Ketch’s email, you are to go outside for a walk. One of my children will find you. More than likely Dagon. Don’t fight her. Just listen to what she has to say. She will offer you support, and then she will return to protect my child. You’ll know what to do then.”

Sam swallows hard. He didn’t like this. He shouldn’t be helping the devil, regardless of the fact that he wants to help all the supernatural beings from the MOL.

“I know, Sam. I know,” Lucifer says sympathetically. “But you can do this. I know you can.”

“I want to wake up now.”

“Of course, Sam.” Lucifer smiles again. Taking Sam’s face into his hands, the devil whispers close against the Winchester’s mouth, “Wake up.”

Sam jolts back against his chair, his mug of coffee crashing onto the floor. He blinks quickly, looking around. He’s still in the library, in the bunker. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, remembering. “Aketch…password 2589dark12.” The good thing about visions was that he could always go back and replay them in his mind later.

Ignoring the spilled coffee and broken shards of ceramic on the floor, Sam immediately minimizes the screen he is on in his lap top and opens a new window. It doesn’t take long for him to enter the MOL domain and he quickly logs in as Arthur.

Taking another deep breath, he readies himself for the information he is about to undercover.

 

 

**********************************************************************

 

“He’s not picking up,” Dean says with a frown as he disconnects the call to Sam’s cell phone.

“That isn’t promising.” Crowley observes. The two of them continue to walk through the mangled cemetery. “Shall I transport us to your bunker then?”

The cracking sound of a branch interrupts their discussion, and Dean quickly turns around, ready to fight. Three more Vetalas are walking towards them. “Damnit,” he mutters.

Crowley sighs. “This is getting rather annoying, Squirrel.”

Almost thirty minutes later, the two enter the Impala and Dean tries to call Sam once again. Finally his brother’s voice picks up, “Hey, lemme call you back.”

“Sam!” Dean calls out, ready to argue it.

“I’ll call you right back.” Sam hangs up, knowing that his brother is going to give him an earful when he gets back to the bunker over it.

Entering the coffee shop, Sam looks over his shoulder, noting that Dagon is following him. He heads over to the line, and Dagon stands behind him.

“I love coffee,” she comments, inhaling the aroma around them. The smell of coffee fills the small bistro’s air.

He nods his head in agreement, but doesn’t say anything else. The whole exchange just seems too awkward. Ordering his coffee, he waits for Dagon to do the same. Afterwards, she turns to look at him. “Samuel Winchester. My brother always spoke so highly of you…before Dean killed him of course.” She smirks at him, and Sam isn’t sure if he should be concerned. She doesn’t seem too upset though.

They wait for their coffee and then sit down away from the windows towards the back of the coffee shop. Sam clears his throat before taking a sip. He isn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared anything. He had surprised himself when he left the bunker and started walking. He told himself it was because he was angry and needed air. But maybe there was more to it than that.

Dagon smiles at him, “How have you been feeling? Lucifer told me your powers have been in limbo for a while.”

“How are you able to communicate with him?” Sam asks, somewhat morbidly fascinated.

She leans back on the cushioned chair. “We’ve always been able to, Sam. Azazel, Ramiel, Asmodeus and I are his children. He created us and we will always be forever linked to him. Unlike God, Lucifer allowed us to make our own choices and leave Hell without the repercussions that his father held against him.”  She takes a long sip of the coffee in front of her. “You’re all about free will, right? Well, Lucifer respected our choices. He may not have agreed with all of them, but he never alienated us from him.”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything rude.

Dagon continues speaking, amused by the man in front of her. “Azazel was Lucifer’s favorite. A bit like Dean was to John, I suppose?” She chuckles softly. “He always did what our Father wanted with no question. You would think that from all of Azazel’s special children, he would favor the most obedient as well.” She grins, shaking her head. “Instead, his favorite was a stubborn law school drop-out/hunter.”

Sam looks down at his coffee. He isn’t sure what to say about that. He fought against everything Azazel wanted and in the end, Dean killed the demon with the colt. Sam certainly didn’t regret it, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a good idea to piss Dagon off by saying so.

“I can sense his blood in you. I’m sure Ramiel did as well.” She comments. Sam looks up quickly at her in surprise. She continues to smile at him, her voice polite and matter-of-fact. “It’s not enough to help you anymore though. Your body has been through too much. You’ve never had a chance to properly recover.”

Sam can’t argue with that. He can’t remember the last time he had a weekend to just relax. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he actually felt 100% relaxed: there was always something brewing. The Winchesters never caught any breaks.

“Your human essence is practically drained. If it wasn’t for Azazel’s blood in you, you probably would be catatonic somewhere.” She concludes. Sighing, she then changes the subject. “Did you draw the runes?”

Sam nods his head. He quickly turns around to retrieve his bag and begins to pull out the folder. Dagon makes sure that the folder gets caught on the bag’s zipper so that she can pull out a small dropper and pinch a long drop of blood into the spout of Sam’s coffee lid, ensuring that it settles inside the Winchester’s coffee.

Putting the dropper away, she leans back and watches Sam pull the folder out and take out the sheet of paper he wrote the runes on.

She takes it from him. “Fascinating,” she comments.

“Can you read it?” Sam asks, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. He frowns for a moment, trying to remember if he asked for flavored creamer. The taste is somewhat familiar. He takes another tentative sip as he tries to recall the taste.

She nods her head. “Of course. You can too though.”

Sam laughs, “Not really.” If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting in this coffee shop with a demon.

She grins, reaching out and touching his forehead. “There. Now you are fluent in both Enochian and Dimoori Sheol.”

His eyes widen as he looks back down at the paper.

“Well, fluent in reading and writing it at least.” She corrects herself, “The human vocal chords can’t produce most of the sounds.” She shrugs, and takes another sip of her drink.

Sam tilts his head to one side, studying the runes. He takes another sip from his own drink. He isn’t sure what flavor the coffee is, but he finds it to be almost comforting. He wonders if it’s some sort of chamomile blend. It has an almost flower-like taste to it. “The Enochoian parts read like some sort of confinement spell.”

She nods, pointing to one of the symbols. “This one means protection, but can be used literally to protect oneself from oneself.”

“Like being trapped in his own made prison?” Sam adds, looking up for clarification.

Dagon smiles and nods her head again. “Exactly. And these etched directly on top of the Enochian runes are binding ones for additional strength. It’s quite rare to pair the two languages together, however it would be the only thing strong enough to hold an archangel inside without the help of a more powerful being.”

“You mean God?”

She nods her head, “You’re a quick study, Sam. I like that.” She smiles, watching him drink more of his coffee. “I know you feel unqualified to lead. It isn’t that hard though. Not if you believe strongly in what you are doing.”

“It’s not…” Sam pauses, not sure how to explain it.

She reaches over the table and places her hand on top of his. “I know. You don’t need to explain. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen a lot. And you’re tired. I know. But this is a worthwhile experience for you, Sam. You really are the most qualified leader for the job and you should feel honored that Lucifer even offered it to you.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Sam points out.

“I know.” She answers, pulling her hand away and taking another sip of her coffee. She doesn’t need to add that she knows he will. Sam doesn’t need to hear that.

“Lucifer believes in choices, Sam,” Dagon adds. “He won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Sam knows the story. There are choices, and then there are choices.

“The two of you need to heal. What better way than doing it together?” She suggests with a warm smile, and Sam finds himself looking away. Instead, he finishes his coffee. The warmth fills him up inside and he sighs softly.

“The runes can be broken by removing the binding spell. That will weaken the collar and give Lucifer enough power to break the collar itself and destroy the runes along with it.” Dagon states, pointing to the sheet of paper again.

Sam nods his head, picking the sheet up. “And if I don’t do it?”

She shrugs. “It’s your choice, Sam. It always has been. But can you live with yourself by ignoring what you want to do?” Finishing her coffee, she stands up. “It’s been a pleasure, Sam Winchester. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. I have a human and soon-to-be-born Nephilim to protect.”

Sam stands up as well, “Um, yeah…thanks for.. um…” he gestures to his forehead, and the demon laughs.

“You’re so young, Sam. I forget that sometimes. I look forward to seeing you again.” She reaches over and pats his chest, still smiling. “Soon.”

He watches her leave before sitting back down and studying the page of runes in front of him. He wonders if he can find a counter spell in the bunker. Leaning back, he picks up his now empty coffee container, surprised by how calm and settled he feels.

 

**********************************************************************************************************************

 

“Someone’s been busy,” Crowley comments when he and Dean step into the library in the bunker. Sheets of papers have been set along the table, each one labeled with a front page picture of familiar people: Sam, Dean, Cas, Mary, Magda, Eileen, Jody, Claire, Alex…

Dean picks up the packet with his own face on it. “What the hell?” He turns the page, stunned to read all the information about him written on BMOL documentation. The last page is dated a few days earlier and states: “Status update: Shows potential. Further observations recommended.”

Crowley whistles as he looks over Castiel’s documents. “If I weren’t the King of Hell, I’d be blushing.”

Dean snatches the paper away from him and begins to read it as well. “What is this? I thought Toni was a rogue agent?”

“Not the way this reads,” Crowley comments, now skimming over Sam’s file. “Says here that everything Toni did was not only acceptable, but recommended by their administration. The execution of your brother was only put on hold because Mary Winchester returned from the dead. Looks like she offered the Men of Letters enough information to keep our Moose alive for the time being. All the kid needs to do is continue to prove himself as being a 100% human that kills anything not 100% human.” He huffs a bit. “Seems a bit rude.”

Dean yanks the paper away from Crowley and starts to read it himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. His hands itch to punch something.

“Where is Moose anyways? Shouldn’t he be here?” Crowley asks, looking around.

Dean stops cursing and looks around. “Sam?” He calls out. Putting down the documents, he walks into the hallway, calling again, “Sammy?” Quickly turning back to Crowley, he frowns. “Call him.”

The king of Hell rolls his eyes, “He never picks up when I call, Squirrel. You know that.” He returns his attention to the next packet on the table. “Mary Winchester. What sins have you committed, my dear?”

Dean starts dialing Sam’s cell phone again. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters.

“Hey, Dean. Sorry about that. Everything okay?” Sam asks as soon as he answers his phone.

“What the hell, man?” Dean argues. “Where are you?”

“I’m heading back to the bunker. I picked up some pie from that coffee place down the street.” Sam knows that it isn’t an apology, but it’s something Dean would prefer over words.

“What kind of pie?” Dean asks, his tone already changing.

“Apple. It’s gourmet too.” Sam adds with a smile. “Did you get all the Vetalas?”

“Obviously.” Dean counters. “Look, I just got back…I see you’ve hacked into the MOL files.”

Sam can tell that his brother is a bit proud of that observation. “Yep. And you were right. I never should’ve trusted them.”

“Damn right I was right.”

“I know.” Sam answers with a sigh. “Look, I’m almost home. We can talk then, okay?” He smiles when Dean agrees and hangs up the phone. Sighing again, Sam is surprised by how calm he is about everything. He should be stressed over what Lucifer wants from him. Instead however, he feels confident that he can do it. In fact, he might actually _want_ to do it. Grinning, he turns the corner and drives towards the bunker.

There was a war brewing, and Sam was ready to lead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
